


Me uu & Hennessy

by br0jangles, PeachBriseadh



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bathroom Sex, College AU, Drinking, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, The Full Sex, cal is a virgin for like a few paragraphs, dubcon, feeling angry, hennessy, human cal, violent affection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24724846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/br0jangles/pseuds/br0jangles, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachBriseadh/pseuds/PeachBriseadh
Summary: Caliborn and Dirk have been friends since they were babies. Friends who are developing bad habits with worse consequences.Well, the quality of the consequences depends on who you ask.
Relationships: Caliborn/Dirk Strider
Comments: 3
Kudos: 42





	Me uu & Hennessy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[Wait - I'm starting to suffocate - and soon I anticipate - I'm coming undone - what looks so strong, so delicate](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yPsqQ13UduQ) _

Caliborn is, genuinely, not fucking interested in anybody at this party. 

He made his grand entrance about an hour and three shots of vodka ago and frankly he’s still not drunk enough to not want to start a fight just for something to do that isn’t having a conversation. He’s got a cup of who fucking knows, some green shit he picked because it was the least offensive to his face, he’s out here with all these losers, he’s doing the party vibe, but really just flat fucking out isn’t sure what to do with himself. 

Fucking, mingle? Whatever. 

He came here with Dirk. 

Dirk, who is currently across the room talking to somebody Caliborn thinks he might know, but doesn't really care enough to remember. He lingers there across the cloudy room, shoulder against a door frame, staring a great big gaping hole into the sharp edges of Dirk’s cheekbones. The long stretch of his throat. His weirdly handsome face in quarter profile. 

Caliborn takes another swig of whatever green thing he’s ingesting and grimaces into his cheap red cup. The last couple times he and Dirk reconvened at a party like this, they’d ended up, uh. Fooling around. He swallows hard, wrinkling his nose at the last bit of vile green down his throat. 

His wrinkle turns into a full blown sneer as he looks down at his cup, cheeks hot. He’s always hated the color red.

Caliborn crushes the offending cup until the jagged plastic spikes into his palm, gnawing on his bottom lip. Who the fuck gave Dirk the right to hang out with all these nobodies? To be cooler than him? He sure fucking didn’t. Not that he’s Dirk’s, fucking, BOSS, or whatever. He’s Dirk’s best friend though right? Right?! 

His stomach drops out in the stupid way it’s been doing lately whenever he thinks of his relationship with Dirk, like falling, or riding a coaster.

Or vomiting. 

_Well,_ he thinks, he’s drink and drunkless, and that marks a good enough time as any to reclaim his best friend and grab another shot. Caliborn shoves off the wall, cutting through the crowd with his elbows and general lack of regard for the feelings of pretty much anyone in his way. He tries to stomp down his impending _feelings,_ but the problem is, the closer he gets, the more he starts to really look at Dirk, at his mouth. His uh, lips and shit. 

The closer he gets, the more vivid the memories of making out with Dirk become, of kissing him, of touching him.. and that’s a real fucking problem, because there’s no way Cal is backing down now. He’d snatch Dirk from whoever the fuck and grab a drink. If he’s lucky maybe Dirk won’t be a fucking sissy about his and he’ll already be drunk too and they can both just not remember this tomorrow.

Or at least Cal, because he’s damn sure he’s not about to ask Dirk what he’s thinking. 

Dirk is chilling. He’s chill.

He’s gotten pretty good at this “socializing” bullshit people seem to expect of him since he’s started college. He’s never been someone who cared to make new friends (he likes the ones he has just fine, thank you very much), but he _does_ like getting smashed.

He used to look down on assholes who would drink or get high, like they were lower than him or something for not being able to handle reality the way it is. But then, he tried it, to prove a point about how stupid and pointless it all was, and he ate his fucking words.

Turns out, it’s actually a lot of fun (and Dirk Strider, contrary to popular belief, knows how to have fun. _Likes_ fun, even). And unfortunately the best place to do it is in these disgusting frat houses. Socializing just happens to be a miserable side effect.

Of course he’s popular, too, why wouldn’t he be? He’s cool. He’s mysteriously charming. He’s sexy, if he can say so himself. And without his gremlin of a crowd-repelling best friend at his side, he tends to, well, get stuck in the crowd.

Oh, Cal. The poor guy. Dirk knows he can be a little mean sometimes, a little over the top with the teasing, but it never seemed to actually bother Cal before. Sure, he’d punch Dirk square in the stomach for it, but that’s just, like, how Cal says he loves you, you know? Or how he expresses any emotion, really.

But anyway. A few parties ago, Cal flipped it back on him and they had ended up making out in a bush outside until Cal’s stomach decided to void all its contents into said bush and they had to go home.

Dirk had brushed it off at the time. It didn’t really mean that much to him, and he was pretty sure it didn’t mean anything to Cal either. Cal is hot, sure, but they were just drunk. It’s not like either of them has feelings for the other.

But then the next party rolled around, and after a few hours of Cal very obviously avoiding him, they had ended up smashed together again with their tongues down each other’s throats. Dirk definitely knew then that yeah, he definitely liked doing that. He would love to keep doing that, sober and with a lot less clothes on.

He found out via some careful trial and error, though, that Cal was definitely not interested while sober. He played his usual game, pushing and flirting, but Cal refused him like he always did, and. Well. That was that.

Several parties later, and Dirk started to notice a pattern. Drunk Cal was very much interested, and Dirk was not about to turn him down. Was that creepy of him? To look forward to getting to mack on his best friend under the specific influence of drugs and alcohol? Isn’t that like, dubious consent at best?

Whatever. It’s not like Dirk ever tries to take it farther than Cal’s virgin ass is comfortable. Dirk got to feel under his clothes a few times, but only under his shirt. It’s not like he was trying to force himself on the guy, he was just. Enjoying himself. And trying to help Cal enjoy himself, too.

“Hey, that guy looks like he’s coming over here to kick your ass.”

Dirk drags himself back to the present moment, where someone in his small crowd is trying to warn him of his imminent doom. He looks, and sure enough, Cal is making a b-line straight for him.

“I’ve got this, don’t worry about it,” Dirk says, as he tips the rest of his drink back. He’s only had a few beers, but he did let someone convince him to smoke a little about an hour ago, so he’s feeling pretty good. He hands his empty cup off to the person closest to him and steps out of the circle.

Here we go again.

“Dirk, take a shot with me.” 

The dude standing with Dirk looks pretty scared when he alerts Dirk to Cal’s advance, and he’s sure fucking smart to be, because Cal is fighting an emotional war in his head that is pretty damn close to getting worked out through violence. 

Cal pats Dirk hard on the shoulder, a habit he knows Dirk hates, because it’s pretty much the only reason he still does it. It gives Cal a chance to knock those idiotic shades off his pointy face. Gives him a chance to see Dirk uncomposed for even a split second. Oh, that’s so fucking gay. 

Alright, yeah, so maybe he’s feeling a little more drunk than previously mentioned. He definitely stomped heavier than he needed to on the way over, but that could also just be his general fuck-off attitude shining through. 

Definitely not how pissed off he is about how much he’d like to get Dirk alone, and DEFINITELY NOT how much he hates the fact that he’s even thinking of the fact. 

It’s safer to be drunk and forget later, even if it’s all pretend. Wrestling with the ins and outs of dubcon would have to wait for after he deals with this _itch,_ that heat in his gut that needs a little hands on treatment to relieve. 

He wants it right now, and he knows for a fact that Dirk wants it pretty much 25/7, the guy is fucking thirsty by nature. 

_You fucking pussy,_ he thinks melodramatically, _you can’t even say what you want, you just keep saying ‘it’ like some horny teenager._

Whatever, if he can get his tongue in Dirk’s mouth then maybe Cal can avoid the skinny ponse trying to have some sort of meaningful conversation about literally anything and they can both just suck face and he can stop thinking in circles.

“This party is fucking lame.” 

Dirk rolls off the physical assault like a professional, readjusting his shades as he follows Cal toward the kitchen. "It's not that lame, actually," he says, as he takes in the very _nice_ kitchen in the very _expensive_ frat house they're currently in. He doesn't understand how they even got invited to this party, but he's not exactly complaining.

"You're just mad that you're not as popular as I am. I can only apologize so many times for my sparkling and magnetic personality. You're just going to have to learn to deal with it at some point."

There are more people in the kitchen than he would care to be surrounded with, but there's also an entirely fresh unpopped bottle of Hennessy on the counter that has their names written all over it.

He snatches it up before anyone can beat him to it.

He cocks his hip against the counter as he starts peeling away the foil from the top of the bottle. "Wanna just take turns or actually do shots?" he asks. He's pretty sure no one is going to miss this bottle if they steal the whole thing and put their mouths all over it. Plus, he'd love to see that cute little blush creep down Cal's neck when he realizes _it's an indirect kiss, Dirk-sama!_

Seriously, how can a guy as scary looking and aggressive as the dude standing next to him get flustered so easily? It’s so cute.

With Dirk obtained, Cal turns on his heel to head back the way he’d come.

It’s easy enough to cut through the crowd the second time, since everyone has seemingly learned the valuable lesson of getting the hell out of Cal’s way.

“Fuck your sparkling personality. And fuck YOU, Strider. Your apology is useless, and unnecessary. Besides,” He yells over his shoulder, practically snarling at some guy who dares to not move his ass fast enough. 

“I am not popular, I am _notorious.”_

Once in the kitchen, Cal swaggers over next to Dirk, back to the crowd of people who decided this tiny ass kitchen was a great place to hang out. Yeah, it is nice, he guesses, but the whole place is ‘nice.’ Once upon a time he would have broken into a place like this to resell all the nicer appliances, maybe take a slugger to the less important stuff, if he was feeling up to it.

Ah, the good old days. Before he started his journey in _Academia._ Eurgh.

“How about you _learn_ the fucking difference,” he mumbles, watching Dirk peel the shiny bullshit wrapper off the neck of a Hennessy bottle. It’s hard to keep focus at this point, switching his sights from Dirk’s mouth as he talks and his long fingers as he works to open the bottle.

He wants to.. Share it. Like. Both drink out of it? Is this some sort of fucking challenge? Cal’s chest heat’s up, some sort of tingly blush crawling up his neck and shoulders. Disgusting.

He sneers, one of the few expressions that feels comfortable on his face, and grinds out a response.

“Just give me the bottle.”

In a show of fearless stupidity, Cal reaches out and snags the bottle from Dirk's hands, tossing the cap over his shoulder and throwing the bottle up to his lips. The glass clinks against his teeth as the smooth burn of cognac slides down his throat. He’d been hit in the mouth before, and every shot brings that delicious pain to the surface. Busted lips, loose teeth, sterilizing alcohol. He rolls his tongue over one gold canine, a replacement. No, _an improvement._

Last time he’d thought about that tooth, Dirk had run his tongue across the point of it.

He shoves the bottle back into Dirk’s hands immediately, trying not to think about the stone cold fact that he’ll have to drink after Dirk in the near future. 

“There, decisions made. Let’s just find a place that isn’t so infested with losers.”

Man, Dirk will never get tired of watching Cal try to be the macho-est man of all men possible. He knocks that bottle back like he has something to prove, and it’s equally as painfully insecure as it is endearing.

That’s right Cal, you’re the baddest bitch here.

He takes the bottle when it’s shoved back in his hands, but his attention is pretty squarely on the shine it’s left on Cal’s lips. He wants to lick it off.

“Aw, _Cal,”_ Dirk says, in his sweetest coo. “You don’t think I’m one of the losers? That’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me, sugar bear...” He gives Cal an extra charming smile before taking his own swig off the bottle. It’s much less dramatic and showy, though, he just… takes a few swallows and that’s that. It warms him on the way down, mixing nicely with the beer and the weed, and he’s definitely ready to get out of here if Cal is.

“This place is huge, I bet there are at least ten bedrooms and four bathrooms to pick from,” he says. Even with all that, though, this party is crowded enough, he wouldn’t be surprised if all those rooms were occupied.

He gives Cal a more intentionally playful grin. “Or a nice, cozy little closet we could get real intimate with this bottle in.”

“No, Dirk, I don’t count you as one of these losers,” Cal rumbles, loud enough to make sure he spits the word losers right into the face of some dumbass passing by who happens to be wearing what is possibly the ugliest shirt Cal has ever seen. And he’s seen some dumb as shit clothes. His best friend is Dirk Strider for fuck’s sake. 

“You’re infinitely worse.” 

The alcohol and generally nearness of Dirk has him feeling.. Bitey. Restless and mean. Not to mention every gross thing Dirk is currently saying to him. He’s relieved when Dirk shuts up to put his busy mouth on the bottle. Cal watches the rise and fall of Dirk’s Adam's, the steady up and down of his throat. He’d really like to bite it, maybe feel the tendons pull under his teeth. 

Fuck. He swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, mouth open and wanting before he snaps it shut. Dirk is talking again, all too soon. 

“Stop being disgusting,” he barks, cheeks hot. “Let’s just find a place to chill the fuck out before I vomit. Or beat your ass here in this kitchen. Whichever comes first.”

He doesn’t wait for Dirk to work up some sort of shit response, just grabs his skinny wrist and drags him back out into the main room. He would say he was sick of shouldering through the crowd, but the little bit of exertion just works him up more. Gets his blood running hotter. He squeezes Dirk’s wrist, slight and boney in the palm of his hand. 

Dirk isn’t some wimp, but he’s lanky. Tall. Dagger sharp in a way that leaves Cal wanting to be cut up on all those edges. He can feel all that liquor starting to move through his system now that he’s up and going. Shit, he’s getting drunker by the second, counting off as he carves a path through the swarm. 

One, Dirk’s hands on the wet bottle neck. 

Two, his lips on the glass. 

Three, his snark. 

Four, his mouth. 

Five, _fuck._

It takes them two awkward walk-ins, a locked door, and three barely avoidable brawls, to Cal’s dismay, to get to a room that isn’t occupied.

And it’s a bathroom. A _guest_ bathroom. He’s ready to tear his fucking ears off by the time they get into the white and silver prop of a bathroom. 

“It’s about fucking time. May as well be a damn closet.” Cal storms, dropping Dirk’s arms in favor of jacking the bottle out of his hand. He takes a drink. He can’t stop the way heat creeps across his cheeks, ears hot at the thought of the indirect implications. His heart is _pounding._ The liquid burn does nothing but heat him up from all sides.

He wipes his lips off with the back of his hand, holding the bottle back out to Dirk. 

If he doesn't get to touch Dirk soon he’s going to have to go downstairs and destroy something. Very possibly a person. The night is young.

Perfectly content to be dragged along by the wrist, Dirk doesn’t even bother to look apologetic toward the people being shoved out of the way. They knew what they were getting into by being in Cal’s way, and if they didn’t, well, sucks to suck he guesses.

He wonders if Cal knows how they’re being looked at, though. It’s so obvious where they’re going; they’re practically holding hands.

The bathroom they end up in is small. There isn’t even a bathtub, just a toilet on one wall and a sink with a little counter on the opposite. He leans his ass up against the counter and crosses his arms casually after Cal snatches the bottle from him.

He watches Cal have another overly aggressive go at the drink, and he shifts where he stands because he can _tell_ that Cal is worked up. There are only subtle differences between Cal’s regular _I’ll-beat-your-ass_ attitude and his genuinely distressed one. Distressed, emotional, _horny._

Dirk has a feeling he’s not going to make it out of here without a few bruises and bloodied bite marks.

He’s not exactly upset over the idea. Not when the hands and the teeth that are gonna do it look like _that._ Cal is shorter than him, always has been, but the guy is fucking _stacked._ Where Dirk is kind of gangly, Cal is thick as hell. From his big hands, up his strapped arms, wide chest, snatched waist, that _fat fucking ass._

Look, all Dirk is saying is that Cal is more than just talk. He _will_ actually kick your ass, and he will look hot as fuck with your blood on his knuckles.

“I don’t know… I think it’s kinda romantic,” he says, just to rile his friend up even more. Sometimes, it’s hard waiting around for Cal to make the first move. But he’s learned from experience that it’s almost always better to let Cal think everything is his idea. 

And besides, it’s kind of thrilling to poke the bear. Seeing just how hard and how sharp he can poke before the bear finally snaps and tears his throat out.

He takes the bottle back, but he only takes a short drink before he twists to put it behind him, tucked up into the corner with minimum spill potential. He’s plenty buzzed by now, warm and just a little dizzy, in that perfectly arousing way. He doesn’t need it anymore, and he thinks Cal might not either.

When he faces front again, he puts both hands on the edge of the counter beside him. It’s an open stance, inviting Cal to take his move whenever he’s good and goddamn ready. He’s giving Cal a very pointed look from behind his shades, but the light in the bathroom is dim anyway, so he’s not sure what Cal can see.

He’s sure Cal just _knows_ though. It’s not like this is their first rodeo.

He doesn’t say anything.

Cal clenches both fists at his sides hard enough to feel the joints pop from the stress. He scoffs, an ugly deprecating huff of breath as he stares Dirk down from across the probably overpriced imitation marble floor. 

“I’m not surprised you think a fucking bathroom is romantic. That bar of yours has always been low.”

Fuck. He wishes he could just _fight_ Dirk, that would be so much easier. Much more manageable. He wouldn’t have to get drunk to do it like some sort of scared little bitch. No, he has to feel _like this._ All the times they’ve actually made it to this point doesn’t change how out of his depths it makes Cal feel. He’s not soft. He’s not _romantic._

He’s not even, ugh, _sexual._ But apparently he can be horny or whatever. His face is so very fucking hot, god dammit. 

The music pounds through the door, low enough to feel the bass more than hear the actual tune. Cal grinds his teeth, nervous heat buzzing through his chest, down his arms. Dirk looks so… inviting. No, he looks fucking _smug_ is what. Maybe he will fight Dirk after all.

Cal steps up after what seems like way too fucking long of a pause, fitting himself between the slant of Dirk’s long legs. He can feel the heat of Dirk’s thighs, and this close? He can even make out his eyes, hooded and hungry. The expression make’s Cal want to slap him across the mouth and bite Dirk’s tongue all at once. 

More heat, more buzzing chaos, drunk and flooding through every inch of him. He leans in, putting his hands just inside Dirk’s on the sink, boxing him in as he leans forward. God, he’s practically panting and nothing has even happened yet!

“Not that I give a crap. I hate romance. All that nasty gooey shit.” He growls into Dirk’s face, lip curled in disgust.

“It’s sick.”

The long, tense pause does nothing to deter Dirk’s excitement. He can feel all the blood in his body thumping under his skin as Cal gets closer. Cal is just… really, _honestly_ intimidating. He triggers Dirk’s fight or flight response in the sexiest way and makes adrenaline pound through his veins.

Cal is snarling at him, and he can see that gaudy gold tooth shining in the fluorescent lighting and he’s not sure if he wants to run his tongue across it or feel it sink into his neck. Cal would make it _hurt,_ too, he’d bite right down on his tendons and dig in until Dirk crumpled under him like a wet fucking leaf.

The knee Cal has pushed between his legs might be a fucking problem. He’s done a pretty good job so far (he thinks, some of his memory is pretty fuzzy, to be honest) of trying not to pressure Cal into getting… well… more sexual with him. Not that he doesn’t want to have sex with Cal, he totally fucking does, but he knows that Cal’s never done it before, and as much fun as it is to tease him about that fact on a regular basis, it wouldn’t be very cool of Dirk in a situation like this.

But his boner is going to be pretty fucking hard to hide, if Cal’s pushing his thigh right up into it.

His head spins as he tries not to worry about it. Thanks, alcohol. You’re a real one. The thing he _should be_ worried about is the fact that Cal isn’t fucking kissing him yet.

“Well I’m not expecting you to romance me,” he says. He brings both hands up to hold Cal on either side of his head, thumbs brushing over the fuzz of his buzzed down sideburns, fingers curled around behind his ears. “If I wanted to be romanced, I would have gone to bed with that guy who was trying to pick me up out there. I bet he would have bought me Taco Bell afterward…”

The way he’s leaned back against the sink leaves him exactly at eye level with Cal. Lip level. Kiss level. He doesn’t close the gap, though. He’s hoping that last little jab at Cal’s jealous streak will be enough to get the guy to attack him.

Not that they’re dating or that Cal has any valid reason to be jealous. But if Dirk knows his best friend…

Cal braces his weight on his arms, locking his shoulders. Dirk’s fingers on the short hair at his temples is… nice. He decides. Cal tilts his head to one side, then the other, scrutinizing every move Dirk makes as he speaks, every syllable those pink lips shape. Dirk has always taken care of his skin, to an agitating degree. But Cal doesn’t hate it. His lips look soft, weak. Like they would break easily under something… Sharp. One good bite is all it would take. He licks his lips again, swallowing down a fat lump in his throat that falls hot and heavy straight down to the bottom of his gut. 

Something Dirk says catches against his brain. Something he had overlooked earlier. The grimace he morphs his face into could curdle dairy. _That guy._

“That fucking guy.” He spits the words to the side, twisting his mouth to keep his eyes on Dirk’s face. 

“I thought he looked annoyingly familiar. You don’t want him. He looked.. Regrettable.” 

He can’t even begin to believe how that guy thought he even had a chance! Not when Cal is the better option hands down. No contest. Dirk shouldn't even be _talking to him._ What a waste of breath. Did he just want to make Cal jealous? Joke’s on him. Obviously this just makes Dirk want Cal more. Look at the evidence.

Dirk isn’t out there, he’s right fucking here with Cal, blushing hot and wanting to be.. Uh. 

Not romanced. 

Great, now he’s just drunk, horny, and _agitated._ Dirk is just.. Pissing him off on purpose. Like he always fucking does. He’d show Dirk what that means, just like last time. 

He reaches up, taking both of Dirk’s wrists in hand and pulling them away from his skull. He holds them out to either side, pressing in closer until he can almost put his lips against the sharp line of Dirk’s jaw. The nearness makes him feel chaotic, barely restrained inside his own skin. On reflex, his spine bows forward, flexing his lower back to bring his hips _closer._

He can feel where Dirk is getting hard against his thigh, because of fucking course he is. It’s the only acceptable reaction to Cal’s touch. No shit. Duh. He knew that was going to fucking happen. 

The issue is that just the slight pressure from Dirk’s erection marks the beginning of Cal’s, and he doesn’t have the sturdy jean casing that Dirk has afforded himself. No. His brand name Adidas sweatpants aren’t going to conceal a fucking thing. 

Shut up. No. Don’t worry about that right now. Cal tries hard to remind himself that he’s being a fucking idiot, that he currently has his lips inches away from that skinny ass neck and two perfectly thin wrists captured in his hands. He traces a line down to the soft underside of Dirk’s jaw, a strictly predatory instinct to find all of those soft, fluttering points. 

This is exactly what he came here for.

“I could do so much better than Taco fucking Bell.” He murmurs against Dirk’s skin as his grip tightens into a crushing hold. He intends to bruise. To harm. Dirk deserves it. Hell, he _loves it._

So Cal actually _does_ what he came here to do. 

He bites. Hard and punishing, rolling his tongue against Dirk’s skin. 

_Fuck yes._

Dirk can’t help the stupid grin he wears as Cal immediately gets defensive. Telling Dirk who he does and doesn’t want to have in the sack, like Cal actually has any kind of say in it.

Well, Cal has more of a say than he knows about. Dirk is obviously here instead of there for a reason. Everything is going perfectly according to plan.

Dirk expects to be mauled for what he said. He expected to be shoved into the counter, teeth clashing into teeth, a low, predatory, _sexy_ growl- but that’s not what he gets.

Cal’s hands are wrapped around his wrists so tight, he can feel his bones creaking under his fingers. God, Cal could snap his arm in half if he wanted to, and the ghost sensation of broken bones shivers up his arm, across his chest, and plummets directly into his dick.

Cal’s mouth is _slow_ as it moves down his throat, and Dirk doesn’t think twice about turning his head up for it. The tease makes him fucking shiver with anticipation, slow, Cal’s lips parting-

So much for not trying to romance Dirk.

The thing Cal says about Taco Bell throws him for a little bit of a loop- Does… does Cal _want_ to do better than Taco Bell? 

He doesn’t have time to think about it, because he’s _drunk,_ and Cal is finally sinking his teeth in, and he’s sighing, and _wow._

Wow, that’s nice.

It’s sharp and it hurts and it feels fucking _good._ He feels like he’s burning up from the teeth out, arousal and alcohol buzzing under his skin, heart pounding, everything happening in slow motion as Cal rolls his hot tongue over captured flesh. 

It throbs in him, and every pulse grows sharper and more painful. He can’t tell if Cal is actually biting harder or if it’s just getting more unbearable, but it makes him catch his breath and try to flex his wrists away from Cal’s bruising hold, but he can’t-

He can’t-

 _”Fuck,_ Cal,” he breathes, and even just the way his own voice makes his throat move sends another shock of pain through him. It makes his cock jump and his back arches to push his hips tighter to Cal’s.

His voice only shakes a little as he keeps talking, breath coming in shallow, painful pants. “What are you trying to do, mark your fucking territory? Christ.”

He wasn’t, but that’s not an entirely bad idea. 

The way Dirk squirms under Cal’s teeth certainly gives that thought some god damn appeal. Marking Dirk all over, making sure there’s not a fucking chance for anyone to ever think otherwise. To drive home that Dirk _belongs_ to Cal. Shit, that probably shouldn’t be nearly as hot as it is.

Dirk pulls against Cal’s hold, gasps and pants and shivers and just responds so fucking _perfectly._ He does everything that makes Cal want to _devour_ him. 

He leans back, prying his teeth off of Dirk’s neck with the resolve of using them somewhere else. Dirk is _solid,_ his cock pressing against Cal’s hip and sending shocks of heat all across his skin. He looks down his stomach at the seam where his crotch presses against Dirk’s and he’s _struck._ He grits his teeth against the heat crawling fast and warm from his chest, up his neck, and all the fucking way to the tips of his ears. 

He wants to _wreck Dirk._ and not just with his mouth. But that’s..

He growls, surging forward to force Dirk further back on top of the counter, dropping his wrists to wrap one hand around Dirk’s thigh to support the shift. The other roots viciously into the hair just at the base of Dirk’s skull, soft between Cal’s knuckles. 

If he concentrates on kissing Dirk, maybe he’ll think less about how their dicks are absolutely almost touching. He leans in, stopping just short of his kiss to get the last word in.

Cal’s voice grates against his throat, pulse thundering behind his ears. Don’t think, act.

“Don’t fucking say it like you wouldn’t like that, you freak.” 

He smashes into Dirk like the fucking tide, ready to tear the world apart. For now he’ll settle for tasting all the steel and liquor between Dirk’s lips. 

Maybe even blood, if he’s lucky. 

Dirk’s nerves feel _raw_ when Cal rips his teeth out of him. His skin tingles and his brain tingles and there’s no fucking way Cal can’t feel how hard he is, fuck, he’s so fucking hard right now. 

He flutters his eyes open just in time to see Cal looking down, to see that pretty red flush creeping up his neck and ears and across his cheek bones and suddenly Dirk wonders how it took them so fucking long to get here. They’ve been best friends their whole lives, and Cal has always been hot as hell, so what the fuck were they waiting for?

Wait- is Cal looking at their dicks? Is that what’s got him blushing so hard?

Kawaii…

Any further thoughts get cut off as he’s shoved backward, grabbed, growled at- _yes._ This is what he’s fucking here for. He’ll be Cal’s for as long as the guy fucking wants if he can be kissed and tugged at like this all the time.

The fist in his hair is rough and sends sharp sparks of that delicious pain pleasure combo down his spine and he can’t _help it,_ he gives a grind of his hips into Cal’s with a deep, pained groan. And then- is Cal hard, too?? 

_Fuck yes._

He opens up his mouth and lets Cal tear at him, pushing back with his own tongue, grabbing at Cal’s t-shirt despite the way his wrists ache to move them. He snaps at Cal’s lip with his own teeth, because he’s not helpless in this fight, goddamnit, and he’s still grinning like a smug bastard into their kiss.

“You have no idea how much of a freak I can be, angel,” he says. His neck throbs where Cal bit it, and his scalp throbs under Cal’s fist, and his fucking dick throbs where it’s smashed between them, and he’s just hot and throbbing all over. He’s a lot more breathless than he probably should be, but he can blame that on his intoxication, right?

Dirk has always fought back. 

Cal can admit that Dirk is strong. The guy dishes out as much as he takes. Time’s like this, when he and Cal are.. _Getting friendly_ is no different. There’s a fierceness to Dirk that make’s Cal want to be savage, to rip and tear until they’ve devoured one another completely. He’s giddy on the knowledge that he can bring this out in Dirk, make him vicious. 

The thought of having any kind of affect over Dirk fucking Strider gives Cal a wicked high, riding along the adrenaline buzz of all the alcohol pumping through his system and centering right down in his groin. He could do this forever, Dirk’s fists against his chest, the teeth pulling at his lips, the slick steel ball sliding between their tongues when he presses deeper into Dirk’s mouth. 

He likes the piercings. All that hard steel penetrating the softness of Dirk’s skin. 

There are more of them than just on Dirk’s face. He knows. He’s seen them all, one way or another, watched Dirk flinch or gasp through the pain, sweet little sounds that drive Cal insane. 

But then there’s the talking.

Dirk is always. Fucking. Talking. Cal’s hand currently not buried in Dirk’s hair snakes up the bend of his throat, pressing his thumb to the darkening bite.

“Don’t you fucking call me that.” He snarls, panting against Dirk’s mouth, grinding his thumb into the bruise. 

“Do Not.” He grumbles, letting go of Dirk’s neck to grab his hips.

“Fucking.” Cal’s fingers curl into a vice, yanking Dirk’s hips forward against his. The friction against Cal’s dick is _breathtaking,_ satisfying in a delicious way that sends arousal burning up his spine and across the stretch of his shoulders. It makes him dip his head low, drag his teeth across the dip where Dirk’s neck meets his shoulder.

“Call me your foul, shitty pet names.” He sighs, rolling his hips, forcing Dirk’s legs further and further apart to make room for his waist. He wants more, hands slipping beneath Dirk’s shirt to grip his waist, claw at the lean muscle. Okay, so Cal was wrong, he can’t do this forever, not with the pressure building at the base of his spine like it is.

He needs more, and _soon,_ and that really, _really_ pisses him off. 

Fuck Dirk. Fuck Dirk?

_“Oh, ffff-Fuck you.”_

Dirk knows he’s getting somewhere when he sees Cal’s eyes grow even darker than they usually are. He loves to see that violent glint in them, the moment all thought stops processing that isn’t _breaking_ the nearest piece of property.

And Dirk just so happens to be that property at the moment.

His mind skips as Cal’s hand circles his throat. Holy shit. He catches his breath before it ever gets cut off. Holy shit. He _gasps_ and tries to fall back when Cal mercilessly digs into the bruise, _holy shit,_ but there’s nowhere for him to go, _holy fucking shit._ His breath comes in short gasps, because Cal’s not choking him, but he _could be_ and Dirk would just _let him_ and it _still fucking hurts._

He’s so dizzy by the time Cal grabs him by the hips again, he doesn’t even know what Cal said to him. It probably wasn’t that important. Nothing could be as important right now as the way his entire body throbs when Cal grinds into him. His dick is so fucking hard, he’s struggling to remember why he hasn’t gotten it out yet.

Cal. Right, Cal.

Cal and his big giant fucking ego, and his very sensitive and fragile emotions, and his also very in tact and unpunched v-card.

Fuck, Dirk really wants to get laid tonight.

Cal’s big hands slide up under his shirt and hold him around the waist and his logic fuzzes around the edges. It’s nice, it feels good, it’s _new._ Cal’s never touched him like that before, holy shit.

Cal cusses at him, and he groans. He hikes his leg up to hook around Cal’s hip and _pull._ Nails in his skin, god, he’s so fucking hot and drunk and he’s going to die if Cal doesn’t keep touching him.

“I wish you fucking meant that,” he says, and maybe it comes out as a bit of a slur, but he’s so fucking horny he doesn’t even care what he sounds like. He grabs Cal by the head again and drags him into another violent kiss, biting and panting and digging in deep with his tongue. His dick rubs so fucking deliciously into Cal’s as he grinds insistently, his thigh hugging tight around Cal’s hip.

Cal’s open palm slams against the glass behind Dirk’s shoulder as he’s pulled back into Dirk’s mean, feverish kisses. 

Dirk’s hips roll against Cal’s, one hard grind after the next while Cal struggles to keep rhythm and not lose his entire fucking mind and figure out just what the FUCK is happening.

Because what the fuck is he going to do? 

He’s burning alive, hornier than he’s ever been in his entire goddamn life, growling and moaning into that hot, wet mouth, and hard enough that they may as well be fighting with Dirk’s stupid fucking swords! 

Cal immediately hates that thought and throws it away, back into the chaotic throb of his brain. His thoughts are buzzing and frantic, yes he wants to fuck dirk, no he’s not sure how and he hates not knowing and for fucks sake, LITERALLY, he’s going to have to _ask,_ and Dirk feels _so fucking good._

Deliriously, he thinks about how he may have cracked the glass with his ring and even that little bite of destruction makes him harder and _harder._

He _loves_ breaking things. 

He wants to break Dirk in half and feel him shiver to pieces all at once, just like glass. Make him cry, sweat, beg, make him _finish._ Dirk hikes one long leg up around Cal’s hip, locking him in place, and Dirk _wants to be fucked_ and Cal wants to _fuck him_ and 2+2 equals who fucking CARES.

He drives forward, curving his body to box Dirk in the best he can, chest heaving on every ragged pant, every rough grind of denim and Adidas. If he doesn’t figure this shit out now, he’s going to be the one that breaks first, and that just does not fucking happen. Not to Caliborn.

“I’ll do it, _fuck,_ I’ll do it.” He growls, punctuating his words with a bite to Dirk’s bottom lip. He knows he broke skin this time, and runs his tongue across the swollen mark. Cal leans back, ready to look Dirk in the.. 

He _roars,_ low and guttural as he plucks off Dirk’s shades and drops them in the sink next to Dirk’s ass. How has he had them on this entire time?! Dirk’s eyes are _intense._ Pupils blown wide, a sliver of molten orange around glossy black. He’s a hot ass mess, and yeah, there’s blood on his mouth. 

The sight alone makes Cal groan. 

He can do better than this, he decides. He cups Dirk’s jaw, snarling as he smears blood and spit across Dirk’s puffy bottom lip. Yeah, he _will_ do better.

“Tell me how.” 

Dirk swears he hears glass cracking when Cal slams his fist down behind him. The idea that it could be shattered, cutting into his hands, making a bloody mess of things, is so disgustingly erotic. He wants Cal to smear his bloody hands all over his skin and then _lick it back off._

His eyes roll back as Cal continues to rut between his legs, all jagged and inexperienced, and honestly the enthusiasm is sexier than any practiced fuck he's ever had. Cal _wants him_ to the point of not caring about what a fool he looks like, and Dirk _craves_ to make a fucking fool of him. He wants Cal desperate and wild and _destructive._

He wants to be destroyed.

And, _'I'll do it,'_ Cal is saying, and _fuck_ if that doesn't make Dirk shudder. Cal bites him so hard that he tastes copper, and he digs his nails into the back of Cal's neck-

Now it's _Dirk_ that's bloody, and it's _his_ shades that are clattering and busting up the sink and he mother fucking _loves_ this turn of events. 

Maybe Dirk is the fool, too, for how thick his arousal gets when Cal's thumb smears his blood across his lip. His thoughts are muddy and he can feel Cal's fucking erection against his taint and when he swallows it's bitter and he's...

He's... piecing together what Cal is saying to him, and it doesn't make sense. Maybe it's the Hennessy, maybe it's the weed, but he's definitely hearing things.

No way Cal wants to...

"How to what, angel?" he asks, between ragged, panting breaths. And _angel_ just rolls off his tongue so fucking sweetly in that honey-glow southern way. Yeah, that one is definitely going to stick.

He parts his lips around Cal's thumb and his warm, dark eyes go half lidded as he works to suck his own blood off of it. He looks up at Cal through his long, pretty lashes as he rolls his tongue over the digit, wet and as lewd as possible.

And then he _bites._ His chest heaves with his breath, his shirt riding up his stomach, his hair a mess from being grabbed and fisted- he's a _mess._ His gaze is as challenging as it is dazed. _Daring_ Cal to repeat himself.

Because there's no fucking way. No fucking way Cal is saying what Dirk thinks he’s saying. That would be too good to be true.

There’s a thin trickle of blood running down the mirror, a sharp contrast to the black shirt stretched tight across Dirk’s shoulders reflecting back at Cal.

He barely registers that it’s even his hand that’s bleeding. 

He sure as fuck can’t feel it. He can’t feel anything beyond his aching cock shoved up tight against Dirk’s crotch, pinned there as he wildly dry humps him into oblivion. Can’t see anything beyond the drunken, menacing, absolutely fucking lewd expression on Dirk’s face that makes Cal want to beat him raw.

His thumb is in Dirk’s _mouth_ being licked and sucked and it’s so _vulgar,_ so wet and slimy and _hot_ and he can’t fucking look away. He can feel the bar spearing through Dirk’s tongue slip against the pad of his thumb and roll across his knuckle. _He loves that one._ His brain goes into deep chaos and gooey silence all at once, mesmerized by the squirm of Dirk’s tongue.

It’s so fucking _filthy._

Then Dirk bites down, and his heartbeat fucking _flatlines._

He hisses, curling his fingers against the pain, digging pressure into Dirk’s neck. The sting makes his dick throb and his hips snap forward as that pleasure-pain jackknifes up his arm like lightning, white hot against his nerves. His cock may as well be a fucking lightning rod for how it all pin points straight to it. 

Cal growls as he rips his finger out of Dirk's mouth, another spike of pain tearing up his wrist as his wide knuckle scrapes against Dirk’s teeth.

Marking his skin. Marking _Cal._

Cal wraps his hand around Dirk’s neck, teeth bared. Dirk’s pulse hammers under his fingers, so very fucking _alive._ He should punish Dirk for that, for daring it. For the embarrassing pet name. His chest heaves with every pant, dizzy with desire as his fingers tighten around that pretty neck. 

_I will fucking ruin you._

He could kill to be.. to be inside Dirk. Right fucking now. 

He doesn’t have to, but he could.

He has to make Dirk understand, but fuck, _FUCK._

“How to fu- how have sex with you.” 

Dirk _sees_ the savage snap of Cal’s brain in half, the moment he fucking loses it and Dirk’s stomach flips. He feels a very real spike of fear as Cal wraps his fingers around his throat and _squeezes,_ and holy fucking shit, Dirk is on cloud nine.

He gasps and arches and his hands go weak in their hold around Cal’s shoulders, as if he might grab at Cal’s wrist instead, but he _doesn’t._ He lets it happen because he fucking loves it, he’s getting light headed, dizzy and drunk and so very fucking horny.

He still doesn’t believe it when he hears it a second time. That Cal wants to have sex with him. No he doesn’t.

“No-” he starts to say, but it comes out breathless, and he has to swallow the lump growing in his throat. His eyes roll back and he shudders, his cock giving an obscene throb between them, shooting all the way up his spine and back down to make his toes curl. Just the _thought_ of Cal choking him like this while also fucking him is enough to send him to another plane of existence. He could cream his goddamn pants just like this.

He _can_ breathe, even if it only comes in little wheezes, and as he scrambles for his bearings, he manages to find his voice. There’s blood dripping down his chin now, and his hands are fisted in the shoulders of Cal’s shirt. “You don’t h-have to do that… for m e…” he rasps.

Okay, wow, his vision is getting a little tunnely here. He grasps at Cal, one hand coming to settle on the side of Cal’s neck, thumb along his jaw, trembling just enough. God fucking _shit,_ he feels good.

“Cal-” he wheezes, and his whole body is going tight. He curls in on himself, as much as Cal’s body on his will allow, his leg pulling tighter around Cal’s waist, his other knee threatening to buckle- 

He _moans_ shamelessly. He wants Cal’s mouth on his again. He wants _anything._

Cal is delirious.

He can feel Dirk’s entire body pull and tense, writhing under his hand, under his _control._ Dirk’s spine bows and Cal’s breath locks up. He’s fucking beautiul, all bent out of shape and soft enough to _eat._ His eyes roll shut, his mouth opens, and Cal can fucking feel Dirk is at the very peak of something _enormous._

Then Dirk _moans,_ and it’s so fucking _obscene,_ so unguarded that it sends heat blazing up through Cal’s neck and ears and tingling straight fucking up past his hair line. He rips his hand away from Dirk’s neck like it burns just to touch him. His hands are shaking.

Holy shit.

He did that. 

_Fuck, he’s so hard._ He’s so hard it _hurts._ This has never, _never,_ happened before. He grips Dirk’s knees, fighting to regain control of his pulse.

Has Dirk always been like this? So pliant? It’s taken Cal so long to get here. He’s so fucking stupid for waiting. Dirk has been giving _this_ to a bunch of no name assholes this entire time? What a fucking joke. Who the fuck are _they._

Dirk is his. He always has been. 

Cal’s face draws up into a vicious snarl.

Dirk is gorgeous like this.

“Don’t be stupid, Strider. Not for you.”

He catches his breath there for a second before leaning up, sharing Dirk’s air as they both gasp and pant like animals. He’s starting to sweat. He can feel the damp gathering at the base of his skull. He’s fucking _faded._ Mind hazy as he fights to stay human enough to not just tear into Dirk as is.

Cal puts his torn thumb in his mouth, licking the knuckle open mouthed for Dirk to see, smearing sticky blood across his tongue. He leans back in Dirk’s space to lick the blood off his open mouth. He makes a searing line from the bottom of Dirk’s chin all the way up to his lips.

“For me,” he says, grinding against Dirk, his other hand sliding up Dirk’s leg to grip around his thigh. If it wasn’t for Cal already being on _fire_ down to his fucking heels, then his face would be fucking carmine right now from saying that out loud. Sure as fuck feels like it is! 

Like he’s a volcano ready to blow open. If volcanoes could feel the turmoil of ecstasy he’s currently fighting through. 

He can feel Dirk’s thigh tremble where he’s holding himself up, and that’s an inconvenience Cal is too drunk to deal with later. He hopes Dirk has a better grip on his shoulders than what Cal can feel, because he grabs both of Dirk’s thighs and hauls him up onto the counter, finally pinning him against the glass at his back. 

Now maybe Dirk can fucking make use of himself.

He grabs Dirk’s jaw in one hand, demanding attention while his opposite keeps him grounded, wrapped around Dirk’s thigh, tight along the seam of his hip. If he wanted to, he could thumb the head of Dirk’s cock like this, it’s just that fucking obvious. Not that Cal’s is any less fucking obvious at this point. He can feel the wet splotch at the tip through his underwear, damp with pre. It’s only a matter of minutes before it creeps through to his sweats.

He licks his lips, tastes copper all over again. His blood, _Dirk’s blood._

_Focus you drunken jackass, you need this._

“Tell me _how.”_

When Cal lets go of his throat, it takes Dirk’s brain several seconds to even start coming back online. He’s gasping and dizzy and can’t really see out of his eyes- or tell if his eyes are open?? Fuck, Cal really did a number on him just now, didn’t he? Is his neck going to bruise?

He wants it to bruise. Wants to see the evidence of it later, dig his own fingers into the marks and beat himself off to it.

He hears Cal’s voice, struggles to bring it into focus. His body feels louder than his ears can hear, he’s on fire, he’s _desperately_ horny, he can’t believe Cal just fucking _choked him._

Not for him? Not…

He opens his eyes just enough to see Cal mouthing blood off his fingers. Which one of them was bleeding again? Fuck, how the fuck is Cal so fucking hot? It’s really not fair, for him to be so close and not be smothering Dirk under his body weight.

Cal leans in, and Dirk’s heart leaps in his chest in anticipation of a kiss. The butterflies in his stomach go fucking nuts when Cal’s hot tongue drags up his chin, across his lips, and- _no kiss._

Dirk has no right to be as disappointed by that as he is. He’s in far too fucking deep, he’s totally fucked, he wants Cal _so fucking bad._

 _’It’s for me’_ rings in Dirk’s head, around and around in circles, swimming in alcohol until it becomes _’you’re for me’_ and then _’you’re mine.’_

If that’s what Cal wants, fuck, he can have it. It’s not like Dirk has been able to look at anyone else since the first time they messed around anyway.

His head spins as he’s hefted up off the ground and dumped on the sink like a limp puppet. Pain explodes from his shoulder as something cuts into him, and he hisses, _shit,_ wake the fuck up, Strider. Come back to reality, where the hottest guy you know is asking you how you like to be fucked.

_Holy shit._

His head hits the glass as Cal grabs him by the jaw (fuck, hot, so fucking hot) and he forces his eyes open no look at his best fucking friend again.

Cal looks totally undone. His eyes are dark and wild. His body hunched like he’s trying to keep Dirk all to himself. His hands solid and demanding and so _sure._ Cal is serious, he _wants this,_ and Dirk isn’t strong enough to talk him out of it, not like this.

Not with Cal’s hard dick rubbing so fucking perfectly up into his ass.

“Well you don’t have to tell me four times,” he slurs, and hearing his own voice echo in the tiny room shocks him a bit. It’s so stark against the pounding bass and the sounds of their heavy breathing.

His hands move on their own, flying down to start undoing his jeans, button, zipper, fuck, why is this so hard when he’s drunk?? His fingers brush over his cock as he fumbles and make him groan, hell, it’s going to be embarrassing how fucking fast he cums.

“See if there’s lube or something like, under the sink,” he says. His words shake almost as much as his hands as he starts to push his jeans off his hips. He doesn’t want to have to take Cal dry, but fuck it, he will if he has to at this point. It’s a frat house, though, so hopefully…

As soon as Cal has moved away enough, he kicks his pants and underwear all in one go down to his ankles. He snags on his shoes, only manages to get one foot out before giving up with a big huff.

He wraps one hand around his bare cock, _finally,_ dear fucking lord, and _squeezes_ and goddamn it’s so fucking satisfying. He shudders, but he doesn’t dare move his hand. No, he’s just taking the edge off before he loses his fucking mind here.

He’s half naked in front of Cal. Half naked, because Cal wants to have sex with him. What the fuck, _what the fuck._

He watches Cal as he reluctantly lets go of his cock and moves to wrap his hands behind his own knees, bending himself up onto the counter. On display. Totally open and all Cal’s.

Fuck the lube, if Cal doesn’t come back soon, he’s going to fuck _himself._ “Hurry up, you bastard.”

The difference between Dirk’s normal, boring, default speaking tone and this. _This_ ragged, wrecked slur of sound is _thrilling._ Intoxicating.

Stone cold fucking _hot._

“Apparently I fucking do,” he barks, watching Dirk’s hands fly down between them straight to his. 

His button. Then his zipper. 

Cal’s mouth drops open, face blood hot.

Oh fuck it’s actually happening. _oh fuck oh FUCK_

He’s having a hard time taking his eyes off Dirk for any foreseeable reason but he fucking guesses lube is a good enough distraction because if he keeps watching Dirk strip his nose is going to fucking gush blood but he never wants to _stop watching, fucking look at him._

Lube. He needs to find the fucking lube.

God fucking help Dirk if there isn’t any, he thinks, manic, sweat rolling down his temple.

Cal drops down between Dirk’s legs, aiming for the cabinets. He’s drunk and moving way too fast to keep up with himself, then Dirk nearly clocks him with one gangly long leg, and Cal eats shit trying to dodge, ass flat to the floor. The sudden jar of motion makes him dizzy and aggravated, lurching up onto his haunches to dig through the cabinet. 

“WATCH THE FOCK OUT,” he roars directly into the open cabinet, head low, gripping the door to keep steady. He feels so heavy, like his shoes are filled with fucking _magma._

He fucks around in the cabinet, moving bottles and _more bottles_ until he finds a half empty one that finally _finally_ looks like lube. Dirk is still busy doing SOMETHING above Cal’s head that involves a pants leg dangling in front of Cal’s red face and _fuck fuck is he actually naked up there????_ Dirk huffs, a sound Cal has heard a million times and he hates the knee jerk affection that swoops through his stomach. 

Then Dirk’s underwear is hanging there on one bony ankle and Cal forgets what he was even thinking about.

He pops up, hand bracing himself on Dirk’s now very fucking bare knee for support.

And almost falls back down.

Lube runs down his knuckle, forced out with a violet _pop_ as Cal crushes the bottle in his fist. He can’t physically blush any harder, he _cant._

 _Jesus fucking CHRIST, look at him._

Dirk is. 

Cal watches him, those long fingers leaving his own dick, gripping behind his knee, holding himself up and open. _Open for Cal._ And Cal can see _everything._ Every inch of his swollen cock, glossy and decorated, those three precious bars stick through sensitive flesh. For a delirious second he thinks Dirk’s balls are even pretty if not cute and he could literally fucking punch himself in the mouth GET A MOVE ON his hole is RIGHT THERE.

Right there. He swallows, _hard,_ chewing on his bottom lip with his one golden canine, all the while his heart beats one hell of a wicked tattoo against his ribs. 

He steps up between Dirk’s spread thighs, setting the lube on the counter behind Dirk’s hip to run his hands up his thighs. Lube smears over Dirk’s skin, wet and freckled. Cal watches his own hand in drunken aw as he drags lube over to Dirk’s… asshole. To Dirk’s hole

_The hole he intends to fuck._

He shivers, one long wave of pressure that has his cock throbbing in pain. Yeah, his sweats are a fucking _mess._ It’s so disgusting, everything about this is lewd, obscene.

 _Fucking perfect._

“Shut the fuck up.” He growls, leaning back in, kissing Dirk like he’d much rather be eating him alive. Cal’s hand goes right back up to the cracked mirror, bracing himself to sweep his tongue into Dirk’s mouth and swallow his sound. He’ll have everything. Everything Dirk can give. 

“Now stop bossing me around and fucking explain this… process.” His hand hovers over Dirk’s taint, tip of his middle finger just.. _on_ Dirk’s hole. Just there. Fuck fuckfuck-his eyebrows pull tight, cock throbbing with his pulse. This needs to happen _thirty minutes ago._

“In as few words as necessary.” 

Dirk feels his heart stop as he watches Cal chew at his lips, watches the way Cal watches him, like he can’t get enough, damn. Is Cal really that attracted to him? It’s more than just his usual prudishness, there’s something about it that’s…

Lovely.

Dirk wants to make Cal make that face all the time. So red and so handsome and shy and sexy, shit. Maybe he’s drunk, but maybe he’s also in some feelings.

He actually _laughs_ a little, a short little amused noise, because Cal is _adorable_ and he just fucking obliterated that lube bottle because he can’t fucking control himself. Cal is just so fucking cute, looking all awed and flustered, and Dirk can’t fucking wait for Cal not to be able to control himself some more with his dick inside Dirk’s ass.

Wet smears down Dirk’s thigh with Cal’s hand, and it sends a thrill of excitement up his spine. It’s slick and erotic and Cal’s skin is hot _fuck_ it feels so good to have Cal’s bare hands on his bare skin, he never thought this would happen. He’s still not positive he’s not dreaming, especially when Cal leans back in and kisses him _so tenderly._

Well, tender for Cal. It’s growling and rough and full of teeth and still tastes like blood. It’s perfect. He opens up and let’s Cal fuck his tongue into his mouth, moaning around it and pressing back with as much enthusiasm as his worn down body can manage. 

His neck throbs with each hard pound of his heart, in the bruising finger prints and teeth marks, he can _feel them._ His wrists ache. His bitten lip stings as Cal continues to abuse it. His cock _jumps_ because oh fuck Cal’s hand is getting real close down there oh he’s touching oh-

He sucks in a breath as Cal’s careful finger, so wet and hot, gently rests over his hole. _”Oh my god,”_ he breathes, his hips rolling, his back arching, his head falling back- he should _not be this turned on already._

Cal just, does things to him, he guesses.

Amazing things.

Makes his heart race and his skin melt and his blood rush. Doki doki _doki doki._

His hands grip into his thighs harder, doing everything he can to keep himself pulled together. Steady, Dirk, Cal needs you to be steady. 

“Seems like you already know what to do, dude,” he says, and it’s only a little strained. “Just… get your fingers in there and stretch it out a little. Lucky for us, I’m pretty fucking drunk, so it shouldn’t take that much work. Already relaxed, you know? Holy shit, I can’t believe I’m telling you how to do this. I can’t believe you want to do this. Cal. _Cal. We’re totally going to have sex.”_

He takes a deep breath. Wowowow, he’s being so uncool right now. Stop being so excited, damnit.

“Just… stick your finger in, there’s nowhere else for it to go, dude. Pretty self explanatory.”

Okay, maybe it’s not that easy for everyone, but Dirk isn’t exactly unpracticed, and he’s pretty sure he can handle whatever terrible job Cal is about to do of this. The rougher the _better_ honestly, especially if it’s Cal. He wants Cal to rip him apart from the inside out and jam his fingers between the broken pieces, chew on his viscera, fuck, _he just._

Just.

Wants. 

All of it.

Dirk is falling apart. He wants this so bad Cal can barely understand how he even got here.

How long have they been in this tiny fucking bathroom? Dirk’s breathing is so _loud,_ Cal thinks he can _feel_ it. His shirt is pushed up his torso, he’s got an innie surrounded by freckles and it’s the same skin he’s seen a million times but it’s _not_ it’s so fucking _different._

And here Cal is, panting and losing his fucking mind about doing this.. right? With some kind of fucked up decorum?? _WHO EVEN AM I?_

He honest to fucking god isn’t sure anymore, he’s just lost in the heat of it. Then Dirk is laughing. He’s _laughing,_ and something about that makes Cal feel rabid. It sounds so manic and pretty. Beyond comprehension. Makes him want to own that sound. Own every little fucking bit of Dirk Strider for himself. _MINE._

And then he arches his back and makes more of those disgustingly wonderful sounds and Cal almost _whines,_ he is going to bust a fucking nut right here if he doesn’t DO SOMETHING.

And fuck, he’s right _he’s right_ Dirk is always fucking _RIGHT._

“Too many words,” Cal bites out through his teeth, rolling his fingers against his palm to slick them properly. Lube is fucking _everywhere,_ it’s not like he needs to do this but fuck he’s electric with nervous energy, sweating balls about this one fucking step! He’s so _angry_ and just-

He holds his breath, pushing his finger in to about half way and _holy shit_ it’s hot, it’s so blood hot he’s going to pass out. All the blood is either in he face or his cock and he’s going to die before he gets to fuck Dirk. His eyes snap up to watch Dirk react, he needs to _know._

_FUCK fuck fuck_

Dirk watches Cal filter through several emotions, none of which Dirk has the brain power to place, all of which are endearing as hell on his rosy red cheeks.

Mm, Cal’s ears are red, too. The tip of his nose. Down his cheeks. His neck… Dirk wonders just how much of his chest is flushed. If his shoulders are that attractive shade they get when Cal is worked up after a fight.

Cal looks like he’s been through a fight.

Dirk wants to get Cal to take his shirt off, but it’s now that Cal starts to push his finger in, and Dirk fucking melts into the sink as his body lights up with sensation. 

In reality, it’s not much. It’s not deep, it’s probably not even a whole finger, there’s no way, but it’s _in._ It’s in it’s in Cal’s fucking finger is inside him holy shit. It goes in easy, so fucking wet and relaxed- it’s enough to light him on fire, but it simmers at level because it’s nowhere near enough.

Not even fucking _close._

“Man, what the _fuck,”_ he complains, and it’s all but a whine. He’s getting desperate at this point, he’s so hard that it hurts. His balls ache and his skin throbs and his head is swimming and he wants Cal’s dick inside him already. Wants Cal’s sweaty naked body pressed up against his. Wants to have the breath squeezed out of him and the moans kissed from his mouth.

He wants to be _fucked_ as much as he wants to be _fucked up._

“If you’re trying to make me beg, it’s going to work, fuck, I need _more than that, babe.”_

Fuck caution and fuck holding back. Cal said he wants this and Dirk believes him. He wants to let Cal go at his own pace, but at the same time… He’s not sure if he could survive this slowly.

The idea of Dirk begging to take Cal’s cock is an excruciating thought. 

Cal, while admitting to himself that there is no fucking way he’ll be able to wait through the time it would take for begging to happen, saves the idea for later. 

He needs to stay in the moment. Fuck Dirk for putting more ideas in his head. And FUCK DIRK, honestly???! He wants to go deeper, _push harder._ Get Dirk to shut his fucking mouth. Maybe wrap his hand around that bruising throat again. Give him a real fucking dazzling choker. 

Not that he gets the chance. 

Just as Cal opens his mouth to tell Dirk of, the door behind him swings open with absolutely no fucking warning. No knock, no questions, no nothing. It slams into his elbow and back, pressing his body tight between Dirk’s legs and forcing him to practically crush Dirk into the counter. Cal’s arm goes stiff on instinct, all fight and fight, and his finger plunges into Dirk as deep as possible, given the position. FUCK FUCK-

Every muscle in his body goes rigid with panic and rage. He wants to turn around and fucking bury this loser, but he can’t he’s _inside Dirk_ and it’s so _hot and wet and FUCK-_ Cal is so god damn hard for this obscene nerd what is even _happening_ to him that he’d rather fuck Dirk than destroy another person. His brain stumbles around the words Destroy and Dirk and yeah that’s pretty much exactly where he’s fucking going with this.

Well, Dirk certainly gets what he wants, if not a little _suddenly._ Cal’s body crushes done on his and that finger shoves so hard up into him his fucking eyes roll back, his mouth falling open on a sharp noise. His shoulder scrapes up against the jagged glass and he’s fucking _sweating._

He’s so wound up, panting and crumpled up against the counter under Cal’s solid weight, he doesn’t even notice the door is open until the extremely loud sounds of someone pissing behind it drown out even the music. 

Okay, that’s happening. Doesn’t matter, though.

Does. Not. Fucking. Matter.

Cal is _his_ right now, and nothing is going to fucking stop that.

Dirk lets go of his thighs, not even needing the support at this point, he’s so hard pressed under Cal’s unfortunately clothed torso, so he can wrap his arms around Cal’s shoulders instead. He pressed his lips to Cal’s ear, kissing down the lobe, to his neck, wet and open mouthed.

The guy is still pissing.

It’s loud but Dirk’s thoughts are louder. He whispers dirty in Cal’s ear. “Come on, sweet thing, don’t stop now. Give me another.” He drags his tongue obscenely up Cal’s tattoo, a _”please,”_ and then back down, where he sinks his teeth in.

It’s not nearly as hard as Cal bit him earlier, but it’s grounding. His ass clenches greedily around Cal’s finger, so fucking ready for more. He digs his teeth in and rolls his tongue over flesh, working toward a nice little bruise of his own. His busted lip smears small amounts of blood over Cal’s skin, and he can _smell it_ and it’s so heady _fuck._

He grinds his cock up into Cal’s arm, moaning openly around the flesh he’s got in his mouth.

The sound of the jackass behind him makes Cal’s body tense for a fight, yeah, but having Dirk pinned underneath him makes him tense up in a whole lot of other ways. Dirk’s arms come up around Cal’s shoulders, letting his legs brace against Cal. 

He forces himself to lean into the position before he pops a fucking blood vessel from all his pent up aggression. Besides, the added weight is grounding, let’s him focus, figure out where he left off.

The wet kisses across his ear lobe go a lot further, though. Cal turns his jaw, offering more neck, groaning deep in his chest. Dirk’s breath is hot and dewy in his ear, a whisper that makes him shiver. 

_Sweet thing._ He says, _another._

Then _teeth,_ those fucking teeth sink into Cal’s neck and he groans, so loud and feral he has to open his jaw wide and bare his teeth because _fuck_ that feels _good._

His hips thrust forward into the back of his own god damn hand and that’s a _real fucking dilemma isn’t it?_

So he does what he’s told. For once. For Dirk.

A huge part of him wants so badly to be embarrassed, and fucking is, but he’s so _past_ that point. He’s in the fucking war zone now. He’s red faced and panting and for some reason still wearing pants?!

If this guy is gonna be here forever, Cal is going to prove himself more than adequate. 

So yeah, Cal does what he’s told because between the guy peeing for what seems like a million fucking years, his dick, Dirk’s dick, and the finger he currently has _in Dirk’s ass,_ there’s not a lot of room for anything else. Only more.

So he gives Dirk _more._

He dives forward, getting his teeth on that soft skin right below Dirk’s jaw, tongue against his pulse so he can fucking taste it. _Fuck yes._

His hand on the mirror drops down to Dirk’s stomach, curling around the muscle just below his ribs. All the while Cal pulls his finger out, curling all five against his palm to collect more of that disastrous lube situation. He misses that warmth in a deliriously drunken way that makes him question every life choice he’s ever made.

Cal pulls back to catch his breath and get another look at Dirk’s deliciously wrecked face. It’s so pretty and lewd and nothing any of Dirk’s shitty hentai could’ve prepared him for. He’s fucking glad for that.

He loves the weight of Dirk on his shoulders. The burn of exertion in his back and thighs. Yeah, he thinks as he prepares to strike, he knows exactly where his rage can funnel into. Dirk will gladly take it. Every bit of it. 

“You better be fucking ready for this,” he pants, voice savage, broken, and a little more excited that he means to let on, but he’ll have to chalk that up to the Hennessy pounding through his system.

Cal kisses Dirk on the corner of his open mouth, and goes for three. Because fuck two that’s why. He presses in slower, wanting Dirk to feel his disobedience. His petty addition. 

Between his fingers inside and his hand on Dirk’s waist and his mouth right fucking there, Caliborn can feel every inch of Dirk. His cock bobs against his hand on every vicious inhale, and he hopes Dirk can feel how angry he is. How hungry. 

How fucking unhinged Dirk is making him. 

If not, Cal has never had an issue with beating a little sense in him.

Dirk notices immediately that Cal’s attention doesn’t split for a _second_ on the man that broke in on them. It’s not the first time they’ve been walked in on, and Cal always at _least_ turned to give the offender a violent piece of his mind, if not a violent piece of his fist, but now.

_Now._

Cal is totally his. He feels _powerful_ that he has this much of Cal’s attention, that what they’re doing is more important to Cal than getting into another pointless fight.

Well fuck yeah, he is. Dirk is squarely planted at the very top of Cal’s to-do list, and he plans on staying there. He _likes_ this hold he has on his friend, and he doesn’t intend to let go.

He _thrills_ to hear Cal making such pleased, pained, angry, _horny_ noises for him. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he gave Cal that little kickback of fight. If he would shrink away from the attention or get all huffy about being the one in charge or- or what the fuck ever. But it seems like Cal just feels _good_ which is _perfect._ Dirk might like to get tossed around, but he likes to give it back, too, and he’s glad that Cal will let him.

He’d be glad if Cal shoved him down and told him no too, though, so really… either way. Hopefully this won’t be the last time they do this, and they’ll get to explore that _later._

He can feel Cal rutting up into his own hand and it _that’s_ not one of the hottest fucking things, Dirk has no fucking idea what is. Cal is so unrestrained, so desperate, and Dirk wants to dig his fingers in and keep ripping until Cal comes all the way apart. Nothing left but base, animal instinct, and fucking so hard they don’t know their own names anymore.

The way Cal tucks his teeth back into Dirk’s neck tells him _that’s not going to be a fucking problem._ He can feel how tense Cal is, wound up tight, ready to fucking explode. He can’t _wait_ to get his ass kicked and fucked at the same time.

The finger disappears, which makes Dirk sigh out with disappointment- but that sure as fuck doesn’t last. Cal is pressing three fingers into him in a heartbeat, and the groan Dirk lets out is _so fucking satisfied._ There’s a stretch, but it’s nothing compared to the viscous teeth in his neck or the burning need inside him. Everything hurts and feels good and it’s blurring together into something so delicious he can’t tell it apart anymore.

Deeper, deeper, he needs _more_ and _fuck_ he’s full, finally, fuck, he feels so fucking good he’s actually starting to shake with how badly he needs it.

 _”Cal,”_ he moans, and it’s pointed directly at making Cal get his fucking dick out already. His fingers dig into Cal’s sweat soaked shirt and pull, nails digging into fabric, tense, taught, he’s going to _snap._

The pissing stops, the toilet flushes, and Dirk opens his bleary eyes just enough to see the guy give him a thumbs up and slip out the open door. Dirk furrows his brows and lets his head fall to the side, tendons in his neck flexing and _aching_ under Cal’s teeth. The fingers inside him are hot and moving and making him delirious.

“That guy didn’t wash his hands,” he pants, heavy and hot and drowning in the music now that the door has been left open. He clings around Cal’s shoulders and tugs some more at his shirt until it starts to ride up his back. “Take this off… I want to feel you when you fuck me.”

Okay. So Dirk was right about more than one fucking thing, big deal.

There’s only one fucking way this is going to go. 

Cal understands what to do... on some level, or at least he’s _doing something right,_ because Dirk is coming undone by the second, and Cal is falling with him. When he moans Cal can feel it all the way up his arm, fingers twisting knuckle deep inside of him. Feel his heart beating between Cal’s teeth, in his hand, across his fucking bone structure like a rhythim. 

When Dirk moans, Cal moans. When he pants, Cal pants. It’s a fucking _dance,_ a battle. Back and forth and press and pull and Cal is losing his fucking _mind._ Dirk is _mean,_ clawing at his back like a fucking cat, sharp and melting all at once. He says Cal’s name _like that,_ like he’ll fucking die without him. He pumps his fingers in and out to Dirk’s bassline and fuck he can’t _breathe._

He barely registers the guy’s exit until Dirk’s neck flexes between his teeth. His jaw tightens, teeth bared. Prey drive kicking, not willing to let his catch free. The only reason he can even hear Dirk over his own blood flow is because his mouth is right next to Cal’s ear. 

His teeth slide off Dirk’s neck, lapping at the sore bite. Dirk’s voice rumbles against his palate, and yeah he likes that. The sound, the taste of sweat and skin. He’s never wanted to eat something more than he wants to devour Dirk Strider whole, right fucking here on this sink.

“Good riddance. Disgusting fuck.” He snarls, face buried into the crook of Dirk’s throat, kissing and nipping at his soft skin. He feels the prick of nails on his shoulders where Dirk’s is being pretty fucking whiny about Cal’s shirt coming off, and yeah he’s into that _too._ Skin on skin sounds _delicious,_ yeah. Yeah he can do that. Fuck yeah.

He leans up, taking his hands off Dirk completely. His fingers slip out without a single catch, obscene and slick. His back _aches,_ flexing the muscles down his spine and shoulders, rolling his neck and he takes Dirk’s hands off of his shoulders. He feels fucking _amazing,_ pushing his hips forward to brace Dirk and grind his cock into Dirk’s ass. He sheds his shirt, hands crossed at his stomach to peel the heavy wet material off his skin. The cool air from outside curls against his skin and _that door needs to be shut, NOW._

Cal has an idea.

He kicks the door shut hard enough to shake the fucking foundation, then decides he’s spent way too long without having Dirk against him. Skin on skin. _I want to feel you when you fuck me._ God he’s shameless, a filthy heathen that Cal wants nothing more than to tear into fucking pieces. He peels that one stupid pants leg off Dirk’s ankle, then slips his hands under Dirk’s thighs.

“Hold onto me,” he says, leaning down to kiss Dirk. It’s weirdly sweet compared to everything around them, making Cal’s heart clench. He’s not going to think about what that means right now, he _can’t._

“If you fall and hit the floor. It’s your own fault.” 

Dirk isn’t nearly as heavy as he thought, but he is a grown ass fucking man. He tosses him up in the air a little to get him settled and immediately regrets the way it grinds their trapped dicks together and he nearly, _nearly,_ drops Dirk right there. Instead he acts like the fucking man he is and steps back to the toilet, now unoccupied. It looks clean enough, seat down. 

Guess that guy wasn’t a complete fuckup. Still. He’s lucky Cal didn’t see his face. 

He drops down, Dirk straddling his thighs, and holy shit. This is so much _better._ He slips his hands under Dirk’s shirt, death grip on his hips, lifting his shirt up to show off that pretty little bar piercing his belly button. He can see _every fucking thing._ Dirk is rock hard and leaking and Cal could rip his own throat out for how pretty he finds it, how badly he wants to wrap his hands around it and feel those bars against his skin.

Maybe later.

He licks his lips, mind reeling, adrenaline shaking his _bones._ He’s ready to fucking _eat._ Deliriously, he wonders if he’s been snarling this entire time, because he sure is right now.

“Take your shirt off.” 

Dirk can’t take his eyes off Cal as the man strips for him. His vision might be spinning, but he’s locked the fuck in on the way Cal’s muscles move under his skin, taught over his shoulders, across his chest, rock hard boxer’s abs, damn, Cal is just _so fucking fine._ Dirk has always thought so, but… it hasn’t been until recently that he’s really let those thoughts go.

He _remembers_ every time he watched Cal bloody his knuckles on some poor saps face. Every busted jaw and broken nose. Every snapped arm. Every time they sprinted away from police cars and narrowly avoided arrest.

Every time he fucked his own fist in the shower to the adrenaline rush, trying not to think about Cal’s crazed eyes, or the way his veins popped in his arms, or the red smeared on his skin, or the way Cal would grab him and shake him in victory when they got away with it _every single time._

Cal’s _still-clothed_ cock grinds into him and his mind goes blank for a second before Cal’s voice brings him back into focus. 

_Hold onto me,_ Cal says, and Dirk doesn’t need to be told twice to put his hands on that hot fucking body. Cal wraps his arms under his thighs and Dirk wraps his arms back around Cal’s neck, and then he’s being kissed and it’s _so fucking sweet_ it takes his breath away, and lifted-

_Cal is fucking dead lifting him-_

and he’s blank again as he clings to Cal, to that hard, hot, sweaty body. His face is buried in Cal’s neck and all he can smell is _Cal._

Fuck, fuck, fuck, he wants Cal so fucking badly, he’s surrounded by Cal, he _needs_ Cal, he’s so fucking fucked. He’s in so deep, he’s never going to be able to crawl his way out.

He finds himself in Cal’s lap, with his feet bizarrely touching the floor, but maybe this is a good thing. He can pull Cal apart so fucking easily from here, ride him so fucking good, pull more of those delicious noises from his lips. He has more control here- which he’s sure Cal will _hate_ but it’ll be so cute to watch him.

So so so fucking cute.

Hands move up under his shirt and hold him tight and he gives a sweet little moan for it. Cal is absolutely checking him out right now, and he feels a heavy swell of pride that does nothing but kick his arousal up a notch. He’s so fucking hot for Cal, and he’s going to _show him_ exactly how much.

He doesn’t hesitate to do what he’s told, reaching behind his head to tug his shirt off and toss it aside. He’s left totally naked in this random bathroom, save his shoes, and it’s bizarre. Dirk is almost never all the way naked when he has sex, and in a bathroom of all places, with Cal of all people-

No. _Especially_ for Cal. He’d do any fucking thing Cal wanted.

Anything.

He kisses Cal again, heavy and thick and deep and wanting. His tongue is slow and sensual in Cal’s mouth, pushing with his piercing, rolling into Cal’s tongue, tasting him so thoroughly that there’s not a drop of alcohol left between them. It’s all Cal, all Dirk, nothing left between them.

Nothing except… Cal’s pants, that is. But that’s easily fixed.

Dirk sits back on Cal’s thighs far enough that he can reach between them. Shamelessly, he pulls Cal’s cock out of his Adidas and strokes the hot, dry length in a loose fist, once, twice. They left the busted bottle of lube up on the counter, but that’s fine. There’s fucking plenty of it smeared all over Dirk’s thighs at this point, so he runs his fingers through it before moving to stroke Cal again, smearing it all over that beautiful, beautiful dick.

He kisses Cal again- he never really stopped- and lifts himself up on legs that somehow still manage to work. He moves forward, lines Cal up with his ass.

“I hope _you’re_ ready for _this,”_ he says, spitting back the same thing Cal said to him those short few moments ago.

And then, he sits.

He breaks in his kiss, body going rigid as finally, _finally,_ that fucking cock sinks inside him. He throws his head back, an uninhibited moan bubbling up from deep inside him. Every memory of every time he’s beat himself off to the thought of this same cock flashes through his head and he _shakes._ His nails dig into Cal’s skin now without his shirt in the way, and he’s not even sorry as he drags them across Cal’s back.

“God _fucking_ damnit.”

Dirk is fucking beautiful. 

And Cal is pretty fucking sure he may not think that sober but he _isn’t_ sober and it’s the cold hard truth. Not cold, sun fire hot. Hard though, sure as god damn fucking Christ. He watches Dirk’s shirt lift off and disappear, hungry for more of that lean muscle that makes up Dirk’s entire body. 

He’s hot. A fucking knock out. It’s something Cal has had to deal with from the sidelines for a long time, watching Dirk throw game and hook sucker after sucker on a damn whim. 

Dirk’s whims are hard to ignore. 

The weight of him on Cal’s thighs is comfortable, where the toilet seat sure isn’t. That’s an afterthought. Doesn’t matter, because Dirk is fucking naked and spread on Cal’s lap and he’s never gotten this far with _anyone,_ never fucking needed to, but he needs Dirk like the blood driving through his veins. 

Before Cal can do anything besides drool Dirk is kissing him, deep and wet. Cal’s fingers grip Dirk’s hips for something to hold to. His eyes squeeze shut and he’s _dizzy_ again, using every bit of his willpower to just keep up with the lazy, determined sweeps of Dirk’s tongue sliding against his. 

And that bar, _that wicked little bar._ Dirk makes excellent use of it. It clinks against Cal’s teeth and rubs against his tongue and he _loves it._

He’s so caught up in Dirk’s kisses that he doesn’t fully comprehend the hand slipping him out of his sweats until he’s being _jacked off dry._

His whole world tilts sideways, slamming to the ground around their feet. Dirk's mouth leaves him in short bursts, but never more than a second and his hand is _rough dear fucking god_

All he can do is lean forward and try to manage the drunken turbulence behind his eyes. Dirk’s hand feels fucking _great._ He doesn’t even need the lube he would’ve been _fine_ don’t stop fuck fuck- 

Then Dirk is firm against his mouth again and it’s _bliss._ Cal could kiss Dirk all night, but there’s something else. Something hurtling towards _right fucking now._

Dirk takes him in hand and rises up. Cal groans, pressing the sound into Dirk’s mouth.

Cal’s mind goes completely vacant. Gears grinding to a halt as the kiss finally breaks and he _knows_

 _Ready for this_

That savage blush comes back full force as Cal puts the pieces together, just in time for Dirk to take every inch of him in one slick drop of his hips.

“Oh, fff- _FUCK!”_

And he does it, Cal fucking _moans_ because there’s nothing left but that rioting bass that floods the space behind his eyes and the sound of Dirk moaning, sitting high and completely fucking speared on Cal’s cock. He lights up like he’s been electrocuted, purestrain pleasure curling his toes and spreading goosebumps across his skin.

It’s nothing like he could’ve imagined, nothing like his _hands._ His sad imagination. Everything falls short.

Dirk is tight around him, _so fucking tight holy shit,_ and _hot._ Like sticking his dick in a fucking furnace. The temperature gives him flashes of blood in his teeth and the hands scratching across his back and it’s so _much_ sensation, pain and pleasure and _Dirk,_ sitting in his lap like it’s his fucking throne. 

Cal’s back slams into the tank behind him, rattling the porcelain as he thrusts with his hips and legs, trying to climb impossibly deeper, hands pulling Dirk hard against his thighs like he could bury them into Dirk too, force himself inside until Dirk can’t live without him, and all Cal can think-

“God, you’re so fucking _tight,_ how the _fuck.”_

He doesn’t mean to say it out loud, it’s so fucking embarrassing, it shouldn’t be this easy to blow his mind like this but Dirk _does it,_ he does _everything_ Cal wants even when he doesn’t and he’s not even making sense anymore and Dirk is _devastating._ Cal’s vision goes hazy, edges blurring as he watches Dirk throw his head back so Cal can see all the savage marks he’s tallied across that flushed skin. He’s loving this, there’s not a single fucking iota of shame across Dirk’s face only _pleasure,_ and his _voice_ is so _loud_ he’s never this loud-

Cal wants control, he wants to chase this feeling until he fucking _explodes_ but he can’t think past the head of his cock, he needs more friction, more _bounce._ It takes his entire core but he fucking does it, he lifts Dirk by the hips and the slide is _glorious_ it's so good. He can’t hold Dirk up long, he’s shaking too fucking bad but that’s fine, whatever, he wants Dirk _down._

Okay, so he is thankful for the lube fine, whatever, _whatever fuck fuck-_ His mouth drops open, sensation punching a groan out of his chest as that tight ring takes him again and God, Dirk’s ass is _ecstasy,_ he’ll never make fun of it being flat ever again _fucking christ._

“Dirk, _fuck.”_

Cal shouts and _moans_ and it’s so honest, like it’s been ripped from his chest by force, and Dirk can't help the grin that splits his face. _He did that_ to Cal. He broke through that hard exterior and pulled out all the vulnerable mushy parts and now they’re all his, all of it, Cal is crumpling in his hands.

Except he’s _not._ He grip Cal has on Dirk’s hips is incredible; Dirk thinks he can hear his _bones creaking._ It hurts in that perfect, bruising way, and Dirk can’t really roll his hips against it. It’s _possessive,_ like Cal is trying to keep and control him, grabbing him and holding him so tight and rutting into him like a fucking animal, like he can force his way in deeper if he just grabs Dirk hard enough and-

and Dirk _loves it,_ his brain sizzling uselessly in the frying pan as he lets himself be swept away by the tide.

 _’You’re so tight,’_ Cal says, and Dirk gives another breathless little laugh because _fuck_ he loves the way Cal is coming apart. Not a drop of restraint left, he’s probably got the prettiest blush on his skin, Dirk wants to see…

He doesn’t get the chance, though. He doesn’t even get to finish his chuckle, because Cal is gripping him and _lifting him again_ by the hips and holy _fucking shit_ so much for having control of the situation. Dirk has never felt so _owned,_ so much like a _thing_ to be used, and as he’s dropped back down on Cal’s cock, the hottest wave of pleasure trembles up his spine and spreads under his skin and makes him _dizzy._

He’s not going to last much longer like this. His dick is leaking so much pre, he’s probably never been this horny during sex before, Cal can _literally throw him around at will,_ and it’s doing things to him he will never be able to put into words.

Every noise Cal makes is a fucking symphony, and when Cal moans Dirk’s name, Dirk melts. He can’t do it anymore, fuck, Cal is too hot, he wants to cum so badly _fuck._

He can’t even tear at Cal’s back anymore, his hands are shaking too much. He wraps himself around Cal’s body and buries himself against him. Their bodies press together, hot and slick with sweat, face pressed into Cal’s neck, clinging to him and doing his best to keep rocking his hips down but _Cal’s still holding him too tightly._ Every time they move, Dirk’s cock grinds into Cal’s abs, and he’s going to fucking lose it, he feels way too good, even if this position does fuck all to his his prostate, it doesn’t _matter._

It’s good because it’s Cal.

Nose tucked into Cal’s neck, he breathes in the smell of him, heady and perfect and it spins around in his empty head. More, more, more… He presses his lips into damp skin and pants against it.

“Feel good, Cal?” he asks. The words come out heavy and hot and stick to Cal’s skin where Dirk’s mouth sits. “Your dick feels so fucking good inside me. Deep and full… _Fuck._ I’ll ride you to hell and back, angel, it’s so fucking hot. _You’re so fucking hot.”_

Dirk melts against him, and Cal is at a loss.

He’s never at a loss, too close to getting beat, too close to _losing._

How can Dirk still be talking when Cal can barely even fucking breath? His body is on fire, waves of it rushing around his veins like shivers. And it’s _heinous._ How easily Dirk says salacious shit like that, how naturally that oily filth slips off his tongue. And he feels so fucking small, so _frail,_ curled into Cal like this. It chafes against everything he knows about Dirk, raw and sickly sweet but he can’t _he can’t do this right now._

It’s not what he wants, not what he needs. He needs Dirk squirming, fighting, _crying for him._ If Dirk is done fighting, Cal decides, he can _bend._

He runs his hands up Dirk’s back, needing something, needing to move and wrend. He crooks his fingers, dragging his all too blunt nails down Dirk’s back and he drives up again. Fuck, _FUCK,_ this.. position, just isn’t working. His dick throbs where it sits, planted in Dirk, and it’s

 _not fucking enough_.

Cal snakes one hand down between them, running it roughly up the center of Dirk’s torso up to his throat, bending him back as he wraps his hand around Dirk’s throat. He pushes, directing Dirk up and back until he’s stumbling to stand as he slides off Cal’s lap. The head of Cal’s dick catches a little at the odd angle, slipping out of Dirk’s ass. Cal chokes down a sob and misses the tight heat of him instantaneously. 

Standing, fuck that’s _tricky,_ but he’s up, tremors wracking his arms where he lifted Dirk earlier. Cal takes a second to let the room stop fucking _spinning,_ pushing up from the rattling tank and _breathing,_ ragged and opened mouthed, holding Dirk. 

Just. Holding him there like he’s about to fucking hit him. _Now there’s a thought._

He can feel the shift between his ribs, down the muscle of his arms and legs. He wants something more vicious, he wants to _wreck_ Dirk. His mind clicks into place like a hammer. 

“What did I fucking tell you?” 

He steps forward into Dirk’s space and straight into his mouth, forcing him to give ground, pressed back against the counter top. It shuts him up good enough, thank fuck. Cal flips Dirk around by his hip, and it’s so _easy._ Dirk is putty in his fucking hands and it’s so perfect. He wraps his hand around the back of Dirk’s neck, looking at their reflection in the busted mirror. Fuck yes, _they did that._ Dirk’s lips are pink and swollen, chest heaving, every muscle across his torso twitching and burning, all those tiny white scars, dripping sweat. And of course, his pretty little cock, leaking on the floor. 

Cal’s face goes hot form just looking at him. _He fucking did this._

“Look at you..” He rumbles low, out of his mind, dropping his head to lick the smear of blood off of Dirk’s shoulder where the mirror caught him earlier. The cut isn’t deep, but it’s been pulled open again and again. Salty and sweet and _everything._ A sharp hiss shreds through his teeth as Cal takes his own dick in hand, pushing Dirk down to the sink by his scrawny neck.

What a fucking view. 

Cal realigns, pressing the head of his cock just inside as he bends over Dirk and god _what a fucking view, this is it._ His lip curls, body coiled and ready. His free hand goes right back to Dirk’s waist. He takes a deep breath, and the motion sends pinpricks of pleasure across his cock. _god yes._ His voice comes out feral and mean _yes yes yes._

_“Don’t. Call me that.”_

Cal thrusts home with all the force in his hips and thighs, arching his spine

and he’s just 

fucking 

_gone._

Dirk savors every second of his body pressed to Cal’s, the smell and the taste of salty wet in Cal’s neck, the slide of skin on skin, the delicious _grind_ of that cock inside him. He’s on top of the world, _Cal is his world,_ wow, this is getting gayer by the second. 

Nails dig down his back and he arches into it, totally blissed out, just another hurt to add to the pile. He barely has the presence of mind to start rocking his hips again once he’s free, but his movements are halting, body stuttering as Cal feels him up. Another rush of pride swells in him because _Cal is feeling him up,_ hands all over, moving up his front, around his neck again-

_oh-_

he stumbles back as Cal pushes him, powerless but to follow Cal’s lead. His cock _sobs_ as Cal’s slips out of him, so empty, cold, _fuck_ he was getting close and now he almost feels like he’s in shock for the sudden loss of sensation.

Cal’s hold on his throat is rough, painful, and Dirk instinctively brings his hands up to grip weakly around Cal’s wrist.

Did he fuck up? Is Cal actually angry with him again?

He opens his eyes, and shit, Cal looks pissed. Fear pierces through him for a hot second as Cal threatens him, and then he’s being backed into the counter again, boxed in, kissed _violently._ Okay, he didn’t fuck up enough that Cal doesn’t want to kiss him anymore, that’s good. He goes lax in Cal’s hold, going light headed between the fingers crushing his throat and the mouth stealing the rest of his breath away.

Until suddenly he’s being flipped and his wide eyes meet Cal’s in the mirror.

Fuck, that’s so fucking hot.

He squirms under Cal’s scrutiny, _loving_ being watched, and he can’t help following Cal’s gaze and checking himself out as well. His skin is red and shiny, his mouth puffy, there’s blood on his face, his dick looks _angry._

Cal is growling at him again, and Dirk groans as a hot tongue digs into the wound at his shoulder, shit, every hurt on him is throbbing all over again. His cock jumps and he’s _this close_ to starting to beg again, Cal _needs_ to be back inside him _now._

“Cal-” he starts, but then he’s being shoved roughly down over the sink again and he just barely manages to catch himself from smacking his head against the faucet. His arms are weak though, noodley and useless, and it’s hard to keep himself up as Cal forces him down.

His poor balls smash against the counter, _thankfully_ away from the edge, and they ache something fierce as Cal’s hands move over him again, grabbing him by the neck and the waist, body flush flat against his back, and _wow_ Cal sounds fucking furious.

Dirk can’t take much more of this. Cal either needs to knock him out with his fists or fuck him to passing out, he needs _release_ and he needs it desperately.

Cal gives him what he wants without having to ask, slamming back in and _nailing_ his prostate dead on and Dirk _sobs._ His moans are simpering, weak, broken, _shaking._ He can’t stay up on his arms, collapsing with his hands folded over the faucet so he can bury his head in them as Cal pounds into him again and again-

Holy _fucking_ hell.

Cal is feral now, no fucking mercy, nailing Dirk’s button over and over again and it’s too much, he can’t breathe under the press of Cal’s body weight. It’s so much, it’s too much, his cock is all but crushed between his own belly and the sink, sliding slick against the cold surface, it hurts but it’s so good, _it’s Cal,_ and there are actually fucking tears in Dirk’s eyes.

_“Oh, g od, fuc-k, Cal, I’m-”_

He can’t get the words out, but his voice echoes in the sink. His mind is spinning and empty and his body is heavy and full. This is it, he can’t hold on, he’s gonna cum-

A rough, guttural noise spills out of him as he spills his orgasm into the sink. He squirms, his body going light and tight all over all at once. He’s _hot_ and sweating and he can’t stop the noises he makes, and Cal’s body weight feels so comforting pressing into him. A chill shivers through him and he goes even more boneless as Cal _continues to fuck him without mercy._

“Ffuck…” He can’t _breathe._

Cal fires on automatic. 

Raw fucking instinct. 

His world narrows down to that searing wet slide, the _friction._ Eradicative, twisting his nerves tighter and tighter. Every muscle, every flash fire wave of pleasure that tears up his legs and spine and _everything he is_ sending him closer to a new, heinous apex. He can’t even _see._

This this _fuck this_

 _This is the only way he’ll ever want to get off again._ Fuck his hand, fuck toys, fuck everything. 

He breathes so he can move and he moves so he can _fuck._ Dirk is tight and shaking apart, moaning and gasping and _his._ Every sound he makes ebbs Cal on, like fuel, like bullets in a barrel, ready and cocked for something _vile._

Then Dirk _breaks._ His whole body goes tight like a vice, hole clenching around Cal until he thinks deliriously that he’ll just be here inside Dirk forever and whatever honestly that’s fucking _fine_ but he pulls out and drives in one last time and Dirk 

Dirk moans, god, _he fucking sings_ for Cal as his comes and it’s a win, his victory, and his _Dirk._

A growl shakes through his chest like a struck drum as he doubles his pace and goes sloppy altogether, feeling every tremor of Dirk’s orgasm from the inside out. The moment is measured in the wet slap of sweat slick skin on skin, ringing in his ears, but so far away at the same time, absolutely _fucking profane_ and Dirk’s voice his _sounds_

And _oh, fuck!_

Cal bends over Dirk with one final lurch if his hips, planting himself as deep as he can go as he slams into his climax like falling into a black hole but _fucking amazing._

His brain goes hazy, vision white and spotted as his eyes roll up, squeezed shut. He groans, a deep thoroughly fulfilled rumble that he’s never heard come from him before, _fuck me._ He's not sure when he let go of Dirk's neck, but both his hands are planted around his hips again, holding himself steady. 

He pants, desperate for oxygen and high as a fucking kite, running his hands down Dirk’s flanks, his thighs. Cal drops his forehead to Dirk's spine, waiting for his goddamn soul to come back to his body, holy shit. 

He leans back up, aching and tingly all over, trying to cool off because wow Dirk is so fucking _hot._

It’s about that time he makes the big fucking mistake of looking up into the cracked mirror and seeing himself in prime fuck position behind Dirk, who looks

Cal tears his eyes away. 

That’s. 

He looks down at his rapidly softening cock still inside Dirk. More emotions than he is sober enough to deal with floor up through his chest and choke him, dampening his post coital high. He pulls out with a guttural moan, hands now firmly on the sink ledge.

Two, three steps back, and he collapses on the toilet behind him, sweats still pulled down around his thighs and one arm thrown over the tank behind him. His.. fuck. 

His cum drips down the inside of one of Dirk trembling thighs.

Cal’s brain hits the brakes like a bug on a windshield. 

He can feel heat across his chest and face, he’s _still panting_ and tingly and proud and no not now. He feels a tickle across his face and yeah.

Fuck. His nose is bleeding. 

When did his nose start bleeding?

God, Dirk has never felt better than he does with Cal pressed so solidly against his back. Even as he's fucked into oversensitivity and he starts feeling raw. Even as Cal's fingers bruise into his hips. Even as silent tears continue to roll down his face. He's hot and heavy and breathless and _fuck_ he's on cloud fucking nine, he's being dragged to hell and he doesn't have a single complaint.

He can't think or move or _be_ when he's under Cal like this, and when Cal slams in and he feels that searing hot load spill inside him, he swears he could cum again just like that.

He did that, he made Cal cum, he just had sex with Cal, holy fuck, Cal just fucked him, _he just took Cal's first,_ he's way to fucking wasted to think about this, it's too good, he's so high, _Cal just came inside him,_ wow, he’s so into that he could vomit. It’s dirty and it’s _Cal_ and Dirk can’t examine how that’s making him feel right now.

His thoughts continue to spiral as Cal collapses into him, fingers bruising into his hips, until they move and caress his thighs and... Wow, that's really sweet, isn't it? He loves the press of Cal's chest against his back, the sound of him breathing, the hot puff of it against his skin, holding him, he feels _so good_. He'd love to stay just like this all night, cuddled up, sharing air, too hot to be comfortable but unwilling to move anyway.

But then Cal takes his hands off him and he's pulling out (oh, fuck that) and he's backing away and suddenly Dirk is left empty and alone and bent over this fucking sink and his face is wet and he doesn't think Cal has ever seen him cry before, fuck, goddamnit.

He wipes at his face, smearing tears away, but doesn't otherwise move. As his body cools and realization crashes down around him, he's not sure if he should feel this good or if he should feel sick. He can definitely feel Cal's cum dripping down his thigh and he can feel sweat and blood drying on his skin and he can feel Cal's _eyes on him._

What is Cal thinking?

He wants to feel amazing, he does feel amazing, but something is already trying to squash down his euphoria and make him feel weird about

something.

He doesn't want to think about it.

Slowly, he pushes himself up on weak arms and keeps his head down so he won't have to look at Cal. His body aches and throbs all over, he's going to be in so much pain tomorrow and that has no right to be as hot as it is. The crushing feeling in his throat alone is enough to make his dick twitch again.

He doesn't make eye contact with Cal as he picks up his clothes and starts to put them back on his wrecked, disgusting body.


End file.
